


Who Wants to Live Forever

by lilbadgerpal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Get Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Slow Burn, Swearing, and i'm a happy addict, dorlene, fuck jk rowling i'm rubbing my queer little fingers all over her work, is my drug, marauders at school, mild stuff mostly and one Big Instance of homophobia, not super slow but yanno, not too much though!, some very gay lovesick teens, tobacco use cw, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilbadgerpal/pseuds/lilbadgerpal
Summary: Dorcas Meadowes is trying her best to keep to herself.Marlene McKinnon is not.And Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is the perfect backdrop for sapphic pining and wartime love.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Who Wants to Live Forever

**Author's Note:**

> please read tags for cw!!  
> also, please excuse the possibly inaccurate use of other languages. I speak neither Yoruba nor Irish Gaelic. feel free to correct me.

Dorcas Meadowes had always been pegged as different. And she had always done everything in her power to curb that perception. As a Gryffindor, she was constantly faced with classmates that yearned to stand out, but that just wasn’t a luxury she could enjoy. A daughter of a Nigerian witch and a Black muggle from rural Kent with a decidedly not posh accent and a lack of intimate knowledge of the British wizarding community at a school populated by a non-negligible amount of blood-purists and affluent white Brits drew plenty of attention, much of it hateful, or at least disdainful. As much as she wanted to push herself to show her true colors and take pride in her identity, she got enough stares from across the class for wearing her natural hair. She couldn’t very well be obnoxious about her passion for quidditch or healing magic. She couldn’t speak her mother’s native tongue and celebrate that part of her heritage. That was not allowed if she was to keep any of the tiny slivers of anonymity she had nurtured.

One witch who did not have to hold anything back, and who did not bother to, was Miss Marlene McKinnon. She was blonde, beautiful, and impossibly charming. Being in the same year and house as Dorcas as well as sharing a dormitory with her, among 3 other Gryffindor girls, since first year had produced a comfortable if a slightly distant friendship between the girls. However, while Dorcas tended to keep to herself and her studying, Marlene had done nothing but shine throughout the 3 years they’d known each other. She was loudly muggle-born and recently made it very clear to the last boy who tried to ask her to Hogsmeade that she was Gay with a capital G, a fact that she discovered during a short stint of dating Sirius Black. Dorcas, Lily Evans, Mary MacDonald, and Alice Fortescue were always the first to know about anything remotely new in Marlene’s life and the other girls reciprocated with intimate details of their own lives, Dorcas keeping a safe distance and only sharing her anxieties about the 2 foot long potions essay Slughorn had set or the exam in ancient runes the next week. And that was fine. A little exhausting? Sure. Devastatingly lonely? Maybe so. But at least she was saved the energy of defending herself constantly.

Dorcas carried on like this until the first week of their fourth year at Hogwarts, when Marlene appeared at the table in the library Dorcas had made her home since first year. This is where those top-mark essays were perfected. And where she had a brief moment of respite from the terrifying ordeal of being known. Well, until Marlene plopped down in front of her, startling her out of her copy of Hogwarts: A History.

“Wotcher, Dorc.” She smiled chipper and insistently at Dorcas.

“Oh—er—hi, Marlene.” Dorcas carefully placed a bookmark into and shut her book, crossing her arms over it. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing…” says Marlene, reclining in her chair, letting the front legs hover off the ground.

“Ok, well, you’re going to break your neck if you carry on leaning like that.” With a sigh, Marlene let the chair fall back on all four legs, her expression changing instantly to one of amused determination. She leaned forwards towards Dorcas, narrowing her eyes.

“I was talking to Lils this morning about what we did over the summer holidays.”

“That’s very interesting, Marlene, thank you.” Dorcas was starting to get uncomfortable.

“And,” Marlene carried on defiantly, “we got to talking about our families.”

“Right…” Ok, Dorcas was getting really uncomfortable now.

“And both of us realized we don’t know shit about your family. I mean, we know you’re from Kent and you’re a half-blood, but that is literally it.”

“Oh, er, I’m sure I’ve told you more than that.” Dorcas was quite sure she hadn’t.

“I don’t think so, darling Dorky. D’ya know why? Because you barely say anything about anything to anybody unless it's about classes. If you had said more, I’d have remembered it out of pure shock.”

“Don’t call me Dorky.”

“Don’t deflect.” Marlene cocked her head to the side. “What is it that you’re hiding?”

Dorcas couldn’t hold in the scoff. She wasn’t hiding. It’s not like she was ashamed of her heritage. Her parentage. Other things that she wouldn’t allow herself to think about… But she had to protect herself. That wasn’t something Marlene could understand. Blonde, beautiful, charming. She operated in reckless abandon and hexing the first person who gave her shit for anything. Yet another luxury Dorcas could not afford.

“I’m not hiding anything. I just don’t need to be the center of attention like some people,” Dorcas whisper-yelled. Marlene sat back at that, looking stung. Regret welled in Dorcas’ throat. “Marls, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--” but Marlene cut her off.

“No, no. You’re right,” Marlene said tightly, the playful smirk having slid off her face. “I just shout out everything, right? You know everything you need to know about me. I’m an open fucking book. Attention whore Mckinnon! Nothing interesting below the surface.”

“No, Marly, that’s not what I meant.”

“It sure sounded like it.” Marlene blew a stray hair back from her face. “Listen, I might not be top of form or all quiet and mysterious like you, but you don’t have to be holier-than-thou about it, babe.” Dorcas’ heart did a painful flop.

“I didn’t mean to be. I’m sorry. I guess I just get defensive about people… knowing more than what they need to,” Dorcas said, haltingly. “And, don’t play dumb, you know that Lily is top of the class. By a kilometer.” Marlene actually smiled a bit at that.

“How silly of me,” she said, feigning shock. They sat in silence for a moment before Dorcas broke in, eyes cast downwards.

“You think I’m mysterious?” She didn’t know why that amused her so much. Or excited her. Or scared her. She wasn’t sure.

“I mean, nobody really knows much about you,” Marlene said with a shrug. “And I don’t like not knowing things. Especially if those things concern people I care about.” Dorcas’ heart did another little flop, this one less painful. And she made a decision. Letting out a sigh, she adjusted herself more comfortably in the wooden library chairs.

“What do you want to know, nosy?” Dorcas asked. Marlene’s face split open in a grin.

“Marlene McKinnon may be an attention whore, but she gets what she wants.” Dorcas rolled her eyes and shook her head like she was exhausted. Honestly, this girl should have been in Slytherin.

“Can Marlene McKinnon stop referring to herself in the third-person and ask a bloody question?” She surveyed Dorcas, narrowing her eyes and folding her hands.

“Tell me about your parents?” For the intensity of the conversation that came before it, Marlene asked with surprising gentleness, as if really asking permission this time around. Dorcas let out a breath.

“Well, my mom was prominent in the Nigerian wizarding community, diplomacy for the ministry and whatnot. She was on an assignment in Britain, something about international apparition I think, and she met my father at the Ministry. He’s a muggle but he was brought in because he saw some bloke cast a summoning charm. They were going t’alter his memory, but my mum snuck him out. He didn’t want to forget magic. And the rest is history.” Dorcas took a breath and looked up at Marlene who was wearing a worryingly smug smile.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Marlene chuckled, “Just-- when you get really into a story, you slip into that accent.” Dorcas felt her face grow warm.

“Here I was thinking you didn’t know anything about me.”

“I know some things…” Marlene trailed off, smiling softly.

Dorcas felt like she was on uneven ground. She cleared her throat.

“Ok, my turn. Did you and Black ever kiss?” Dorcas smiled primly.

“I wasn’t aware I was being interrogated as well.”

“Don’t you think it’s only fair?”

“I suppose… yes, Black and I kissed a grand total of two times before I realized I really did not fancy boys. I think I knew before that but… I wanted to make sure. And if I didn’t fancy Black, no male was going to do it for me, were they? Felt kind of bad about it for a minute. About being gay and about using him a bit, but as it turns out he was doing a similar experiment. And as you can see, I have come into my queerness well enough. So, all’s well that ends gay.” Dorcas nodded, feeling a bit like taking polyjuice just to feel like what it would be to have that amount of sheer guts.

“Alright, my go. What’s your middle name?”

“We’re going for the deep stuff are we?”

“Just answer the damn question, Meadowes.” Dorcas sighed and smoothed a hand over her hair.

“Ifedayo.” Marlene perked up.

“Eef-ah-die-oh?” she asked, trying to mimic Dorcas’ speech, the way her lips formed each syllable, rounding the vowels and softening the ‘d’.

“Ifedayo, McKinnon. It’s from Yorubaland. My dad got to pick my first name-- they wanted me to seem more English-- so my mum got the middle name. Usually, I would have a lot more names, if we went strictly by Yoruba tradition, but Mum likes short and sweet.” Dorcas thought for a moment. “What about yours?”

Marlene beamed. “I’ve got two. I’m Marlene Isabella Éasca McKinnon. Well and truly Irish, innit?”

“Quite. Isabella… Ee-ai-skah? Ease-kah? Say it again.” Dorcas demanded.

She listened as Marlene repeated the name, mesmerized by the flow of the ‘e’ into the ‘a’ and how Marlene made the ‘c’ sound at the back of her mouth. Suddenly she realized she was now staring quite intently at her lips, which were impossibly pink and supple. Not that Dorcas noticed. She didn’t notice such things in her friends. Or in girls.

She quickly forced herself to look back to Marlene’s eyes (which were honestly no less easy to ignore).

“What’s it mean?”

“Light-hearted, spry, gay. No, actually,” Marlene said, as Dorcas started to laugh. “It’s in the actual definition: ‘light and gay’. Right, what does…”

“Ifedayo”

“Thank you. What does Ifedayo mean?” Marlene managed the name this time, earning herself a grin from Dorcas.

“It means ‘love has turned to joy’. Mum thought it was fitting as my parents’ love despite the odds brought them—” Dorcas gestured to herself.

“Your mum was quite right,” Marlene said, with that same soft smile plastered on her face. Dorcas felt herself growing warmer under the intensity of Marlene’s gaze.

“What about your mum? And da? You’re muggle-born, how’d they like a witch in the family?” Dorcas tried to change the subject. As soon as she’d asked the question, though, she knew she had struck on something painful. The usual glimmer of mischief in Marlene’s eyes dimmed a little and her smile faltered.

“Dad is one of those ultra-religious types of people. Mum was too, but, her head wasn’t as far up her ass, I guess. Anyway, he thought it was a joke when I got the letter. Most Muggle parents do, I think. But Professor McGonagall came to break the ugly truth. Well, maybe not ugly— I thought it was bloody brill. But Dad flipped his shit. Started screaming at Minnie to get out of his house. Then he turned on me. Mum was trying to calm him down, but he had built himself into a temper. He ended up hitting me. And that was the final straw for Mum. She gathered up my siblings and me and we all left that night. And she sent me to Hogwarts. So here I am.”

“Marlene— I— I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell any of the gang?” Dorcas felt a little sick.

“Lily knows, but… I don’t know. I just don’t like to think of him much. He doesn’t deserve the energy,” Marlene said, uncharacteristically monotone.

“You’re damn right about that. God. What a dick.”

Marlene gave a mirthless sort of laugh. The pair sat in silence for a bit. Rain began to patter against the lead panes of stained glass, the candles floating over the tables illuminating the drops stuck there. The scene was so warm and Marlene looked so incredibly _sad_ that Dorcas was overtaken by the urge to take hold of her and never let go. She settled for taking hold of her pale hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Love you, Marls.”

“Love you, Dorky.”

Dorcas was feeling so much simultaneous panic and excitement, she forgot to scold Marlene for the nickname.

  
  



End file.
